


One Night Girl

by titasjournal



Category: Harrison Ford - Fandom, Star Wars - All Media Types, carrie fisher - Fandom, carrison - Fandom
Genre: smutty sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 16:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11085129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titasjournal/pseuds/titasjournal
Summary: Carrie and Harrison try to navigate their affair while they film the first Star Wars movie. Set in 1976.





	One Night Girl

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter to this new multichapter I'm trying out. I hope y'all like it!!

“I met a girl exactly like my mother at the theatre the other day,” Mark starts. “Dresses like her, acts like her, so I brought her home.” He chuckles, looking at every single person at the table. “My father doesn’t like her! Go figure.” Everyone laughs at Mark’s silly joke, though some reactions, like Carrie’s, were way too overdone. Even after Peter and Harrison stop laughing, Carrie only intensifies it. Harrison turns sideways, towards her, and kicks her leg under the table.

“Okay Carrie, I wasn’t that funny.” Mark lightheartedly says, winking at her.

“Oh Mark, you’re the best.” She strategically places her hand on his arm and giggles. He searches for Peter’s feedback, only managing a confused shrug. She pushes her chair further closer to Mark’s, kissing his cheek.

“Gonna hit the ladies room, be back in a second,” she says, though she turns back around and shoots: “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, boys!” and, shaking her buzzing head, hurries to the bathroom.

The three men sip their drinks in silence, the crying of someone else’s baby and clanking of forks on plates filling up the room. Harrison takes a bite of his not-so-warm steak and tries to make some sense of Carrie tonight:

“Anyone wanna clear what’s going on?” his sturdy tone echoes inside the restaurant.

“To be honest, I have absolutely no idea what’s going on in Carrie’s mind half the time.” Peter jumps in, leaning back, signaling the waiter for another glass of wine.

“That makes two of us then.” Harrison clicks their glasses and takes one big gulp.

“She did seem weird enough this week, right?” Mark raises his eyebrows and turns toward Harrison, inciting him to respond.

“Yeah, being late to set and forgetting lines all the time.” his co-star agrees worryingly, focusing on the small television a few feet away from him.

“She’s been too… _enthusiastic_ lately.” Peter points out. “Especially towards our friend Mark here.” He points accusingly at him, picking up his glass and drinking his wine.

Harrison starts to get edgy. She _has_ been flirting with Mark lately, and he’s far from satisfied with it. She knows just how to get him to be things he’s never thought he’d ever be, jealous being one of them. The way she so naturally jokes with Mark, opens up to Mark, hangs out with Mark, makes him nervous and just the right amount of angry. Even though his feelings are far from clear and committed, he still doesn’t want her to go around with anyone else but him. It’s not fair for Carrie, but then again, it’s not like he can help it. Maybe he should learn how to.

“Me?” Mark coyly shouts. “Well yeah, I’ve noticed it too.” He laughs quietly, his gaze wandering across the room. “Wonder what that’s about…” Harrison knows Mark has a crush on Carrie, a small hint of an infatuation that can very easily spread and become a full-on obsession. He knows it because he’s starting to feel it too. Obsessing over her caramel-covered hair against his white sheets, her fully pink lip-glossed lips and him taking it off of her, her petite frame on top of his every weekend. But those aren’t the only fantasies that make him daydream every weekday on set while they play scoundrel and princess. Thoughts of more domestic and blissful scenarios are what keep him up at night. Cooking her his famous pasta, watching _Casablanca_ on the couch of her apartment wrapped up in her blue wool blanket, brushing their teeth side by side before they go to sleep. He’s consumed by it for a while, only to wake up the next morning to regret them and, eventually and inevitably, forget them.

“I’m back!” she excitedly states, approaches her chair. “Oh look, _North by Northwest_ is on!” she points to the TV and settles down in her place, resting her head on her hand. “Cary Grant is so good.” Her voice evens and her tone is mellow and oh-so-raspy. The three men exhale in relief, noting her normal tone. “I talked to him once or twice.” She utters, to no one in particular.

“Tell us about it,” is what Harrison says, but what he meant was _Tell me about it._

“He’s the perfect gentleman, his voice is so manly.” Peter leans in closer across from her. “He dissuaded me from taking acid.” Her blatant voice and blasé expression are just enough to make Harrison chuckle. “Like I said, the perfect gentleman.” She risks a glance at him and he winks, turning his frown to a side grin.

“Well, I better head home, today positively kicked my ass.” Peter says, fishing out a few bills to pay for dinner.

“Me too.” Mark gets up and pays as well. “Share a cab?” Peter nods and Carrie and Harrison remain seated.

“Harry, you coming?” Mark questions, seeing as neither of them would move.

“Yeah sure, in a bit.” he rises from his seat and takes two strides towards his friend. “You guys go ahead.” He hugs him goodbye and sits back down next to Carrie. She scoots closer, surprisingly. Then, her legs are sprawled on his lap, her heelless feet dangling on the side. His warm hands hold her in place and her head falls to her shoulder. He leans in, finishes his wine and the waiter comes up behind them to collect the money: “Sorry sir, are you not done yet?”

“Yes, here,” he hands him the missing money and asks: “Would it be alright if she finished her wine here?” he gestures to her half full glass.

“Of course, sir. Enjoy.” He gathers the plates and glasses and leaves them alone. The restaurant is far more silent than it had been just an hour ago. 

“It’s unbelievable.” She mutters, placing her small hand on his back.

“What is?” he responds to her touch by returning her worn-out glance.

“Whenever I’m with you, no one notices me.” She smiles tenderly, massaging the back of his head.

“You’re crazy.” He looks at her and lingers a little too long. His eyes don’t leave hers, as though he really means it. She’s crazy, she has to be. Whenever _she’s_ around, he’s always the guy with the girl, her enthralling and somewhat intense personality always shining brighter than any others’.

“Okay, you’re creeping me out, Ford.” She laughs and removes her legs from his embrace, gulping the rest of her wine down and promptly getting up.

“I’m going to call a cab and go home now.” She tentatively states, putting on her coat.

“Me too, then.” They make their way out of the restaurant and his hand slips to the small of her back, leading her out onto the cool June streets. The car pulls up and both of them get in, Carrie relieved he decided to come, despite not having been invited.

“My place?” she whispers in his ear, praying he’d say yes.

“Absolutely.” He answers, draping one arm around her waist, both of them settling down deeper into the seat. She’s crashing into him like waves on the coast, every word they share moving them closer, the white lights out on the streets making her eyes shine tonight. They pass a neon _no vacancy_ sign on the way to her apartment, their heads buzzing as though they were the sign itself. He couldn’t help but wonder how much her skin begged to kissed. She takes his hand in hers and leans in, his lips tasting like the all too familiar red wine.

“Your lips taste like wine.” She breathes out. He kisses her again, this time more urgently than before. Out of the corner of his eye, her recognizes the streets and realizes they’re almost home.

“Thank you.” She hands the driver a few bills and he responds in a thick British accent.

They go up the dimly lit stairs quickly, two wrecking balls dancing down the hallway. She holds her shoes in one hand as the other clutches his a bit too tightly. He hurries behind her as she frantically tries to unlock the door. She stops right in front of it when he places his burning hands on either one of her arms: “Calm down, Carrie.” Feeling ashamed, she opens the door and throws him to the wall, taking to his neck effective-immediately.

“Hey, let’s go to the bedroom, huh?” he murmurs against her damp skin. She obliges.

He knows just how to play her like a piano, picking all the right notes. His mouth on hers is the epitome of fulfillment. And while he’s kissing her to another universe, she can’t help but overthink all of this. What irks her the most isn’t knowing he’s kissed others like this – in this maddening, all-consuming way – but knowing she won’t be the last to feel it.

She pulls away just enough to breathe out: “Harrison, stop.”

He backs away ever-so-slightly and furrows his brow: “Did I do something wrong?” he sits further away from her and turns on the nightstand light.

“Are you going to be here next weekend?” she asks, pulling up her shirt sleeves.

“What do you mean?” he takes off his watch and lays it carefully on the wooden dresser.

“I mean, will you be here next weekend?” his back is still turned to her as she begs: “Come here, please.” He complies wordlessly, nodding.  

“Yes?” he asks.

“Is this just a one night thing?” she reaches for his hand and examines it, as though that provides her with a motive not to face his reaction.

“Well, been goin’ on for way too long for it to be _just a one night thing_.” She laughs at his remark, but keeps pressing on the subject:

“What I mean is, is what we do in one night everything you want to do with me?” her voice is helplessly hopeful.

“There’s no way I can fit everything I wanna do with you in just one night, darling.” He waggles his eyebrows and moves in closer to kiss her. She lets him, though it’s not what she wants. What she wants is to say is that she wants more than their late night escapades and hide-and-seek kisses in between takes. Therefore, she’s lying to him when she should be telling the truth. She’s lying with every kiss she returns and every touch she feels.  Yes, the truth hurts, but secrets like this… These secrets _kill_.


End file.
